


Pretty Pink, Blood Red

by Battery_operated



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Baby Fic, Crackfic taken seriously, M/M, Omegaverse, Woble is Kurapika's daughter, inconsistant word tense, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Battery_operated/pseuds/Battery_operated
Summary: Kurapika's salvation comes in the form of a little girl in Leorio's arms. He never thought he'd feel this way.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	Pretty Pink, Blood Red

Kurapika often came without warning.

His comings and goings were erratic and Leorio had grown used to the beta's flighty nature, however bothersome it was. There are many facets of Kurapika's nature he'd reluctantly come to accept; his self destructive tendencies, his guarded and judgmental air, his messy morality. He knew them all intricately, made peace with each flaw and fault and Kurapika's unwillingness to change them. So it was no surprise when he found himself bent over in a secluded alley, taking all the blond had to give him. 

There were better ways, thousands of alternatives, but he took Kurapika as he came.

Appearing out of thin air, as Kurapika often did like a spirit summoned from the shadows, he caught Leorio marching home from another lecture that had dragged on too long. Slinked up right next to him with his afternoon shadow, and scaring the shit out of Leorio as he materialized with boldness and no apologies. Fumbled greetings and I-missed-you's quickly turned into something much more physical and important as they had rounded a corner on an empty street. Leorio liked to think that he was the only one who's ever been privileged enough to see this messy and impatient side of the normally cool and collected beta, because, beside what slips in these desperate moments, he really doesn't know much about Kurapika anymore.

But what Leorio does know is that it's a prime time to squeeze information out of Kurapika when he's like this, volatile and pliable and undone. The perfect time to pry answers from him and figure out what's been going on in his life, if he's okay, how can he help?

He tries to ask. Keyword; tries. 

It's hard to use this moment to his advantage when everything is moving so fast. Multitasking is a sore spot of his, he realizes as he tries to postpone the petting and gentle touches and whispers that Kurapika slathers on thick. How is it possible to gain the upper-hand when someone's grabbing his heart, his clothes, his lips and pulling him down, down, down.

It's hard to tell in this grimey lighting if his relentless attacker is a persuasive demon with his blood red eyes. Or angel in all of his golden light and soft skin.

Leorio tries to ask questions and Kurpika swallows them mercilessly as he drags the taller man in for another kiss, leaving no space for words between them. The world rears up against Leorio as his own biology betrays him, making his mouth dry and mind hazy and scrambling his words. He can feel the slick between his legs as Kurapika manhandles him into a better position— since when was he so strong? With no option left but surrender, Leorio cursed the fact that he was born omega, he finally gives up on his attempts and allows this beautiful demon to drag him into hell.

(X)

It's a walk of shame when they trudge back to Leorio's apartment afterwards. Silent and breathless in their rumpled clothes.

They share a shower and few words after arriving home, back to back under the spray of the water, exchanging the soap and unspoken regrets. It's too late to ask any true questions now; Kurapika is in too clear of a state of mind to reply when Leorio asks where he's been. After a moment of such shamefully honest vulnerability, of desperation and desire for human contact and comfort, he's pulled up the drawbridge to his walls and retreated inside himself again. So they talk about the weather and scenery and Leorio's studies and everything except what truly matters instead, because prerecorded answers are the only ones he gets.

Kurapika crawls in bed next to him after their painfully dry conversation, too tired and defeated for another round, but still too vulnerable to sleep alone on the couch. Leorio says nothing as he does, no teasing or affectionate banter. To say something now would be to scare a feral animal back to the streets. He doesn't want to pour salt on an open wound and risk never having this happen again. In Kurapika's eyes, these nights are moments of weakness when his humanity overwhelmed his goals. And he didn't like being reminded that he couldn't lock his loneliness behind a thirst for revenge.

Where the sex had left him unsatified and disorientied, this is satiating for Leorio's starved heart. The feeling of Kurapika's warm skin and silky hair, all the pent up rage of the waking world melting away from him and leaving him soft and sorrowful in his sleep. Kurapika doesn't cuddle. He lays on his side of the bed still and quiet like a puppet cut from it's strings. So Leorio shifts instead, worming his way backwards slowly until he can feel the beta warm at his side. Hardly much, but it's enough for him.

He won't stay, but Leorio is more scared that he won't come back.

When he wakes there is a cold spot on his bed. And cold coffee on the counter.

(X)

It's the week that Leorio is due to take his admission's test for medical school that he realizes he's missed his heat by nearly a week.

He's never been good at keeping track of important dates and times. He forgets packages and misses due dates and days just seem to slip by him all the time. It's never bothered Leorio much, that he's always struggled to set his life to a schedule. It's an unorganized way of living, he knows, and it's gotten him in trouble his fair share of times. But it's gotten him by hasn't it?

He forgets sometimes, everyone does, no big deal. A devil-may-care attitude was solution enough.

Now he wishes he could go back in time and scold himself as his parents had done so often, always saying; "You can't be careless with these things, Leorio! You're an omega, you know that!"

But that's when he was a reckless teen with nothing to lose, forgetting his heat suppressants. Stakes were higher these days.

Leorio was paying for it now, karmic retribution. God, wasn't he paying for it as he stared at the thirteen pregnancy tests all lined up on the sink. Overkill probably, but thirteen was a lucky number wasn't it?

But there was only so much luck could do when he hadn't been on birth control in months.

He'd always been lucky, so it made sense that it would make sense that his luck would run out sooner or later. Passed the hunter's exam with no skills or qualifications whatsoever. Managed to get Kurapika and Gon and Killua to help him through his slip ups. Tricked the whole lot of them into holding onto someone as useless as him. Thinking about it now, he may have just been mistaking his superior bullshittery skills for actual luck.

He's called Kurapika twenty six times by the time the last pregnancy test shows positive.

No one is going to pick up, but he tries and tries and tries again because he isn't quite sure what else to do. If he pauses for even a minute, takes time to truly understand the implications that each tiny pink plus sign has on his future, it'll start a spiral he isn't sure he could recover from. How was he going to finish medical school? How was he gonna do it with a baby? Goddammit how hard was it for Kurapika to use a phone once? Did this fucker change his number?

God knows where he could be. What he could be doing. Probably fucking Hisoka for all he knew.

He blames his stupid hope on omega horamones. This hope that everything will happen like it goes in those shitty romcoms. That Kurapika will pick up and sob happy tears about the news, that he'd give up the mafia and black suits and red eyes, and they'll seal it with a kiss in an airport. There will be crying and pain, but they get their happy ending because problems are supposed to resolve themselves neatly like that. Is that too much to ask? It probably is. 

If anyone in this world got happy endings, Kurapika would have had his by now.

It's funny, in a sick way. He never thought meeting the last Kurta would equate to his life falling apart at the seams years later. In a fucking bathroom.

His test score comes back good, but it's the least important development

(x)

In the face of an unplanned pregnancy, one of the few problems Leorio thought he'd never have to face, he tucks tail and runs. Back to his parents, that is.

It's a surprise for everyone involved when he shows up at their doorstep in the middle of the night. Disgruntled, fresh off an airship, and dragging his meager luggage behind him. However shocked they seem to be at his sudden arrival, Leorio's just happy to collapse into open arms.

His mother helps him set up his things in the tiny house he spent his entire childhood swearing he was never coming back to. Sets his shoes on the welcome mat that tormented him. Leorio remembers being twelve and telling her how'd become a doctor and get rich and that he'd buy her and his father a huge house. One without a leaky roof and poor insulation. He remembers how he thought the future was going to be.

He's far from sure about how he feels that first night home. In his tiny cramped room with his parents only a thin wall away. Tired, mostly. Scared.

It's impossible to look at the sky from his small bedroom window. And even if it was positioned just right he wouldn't be able to see the stars. There was too much air pollution here for anything other than a grey, smog choked sky.. He hadn't been able to see the stars at his old apartment either, with all the city lights.

The first time he'd ever seen the stars was on Zevil island, with Kurapika. His back itchy against the green grass and thoroughly tired after a full day of fearing for his life. He commented on how a bunch of dots in the sky didn't quite live up to his expectations, and Kurapika laughed. 

"They look much more impressive back where I'm from. There are definitely better views." he'd helped.

Kurapika had been softer back then. More easily prone to offering information about his past instead of having it weaseled out of him. His affection was more easily given too, instead of slipping out the door with him and leaving the bed cold in early mornings.

Now, they're just both a wreck aren't they?

(x)

He tells his parents exactly why he's back the next morning, his head lowered and his scent bitter with shame. This is hardly how they raised him. They didn't work their asses off his entire childhood for him to become a struggling, pregnant, unmated mess of an omega by twenty one.

They nod solemnly at the kitchen table, not blaming, never blaming, just. . .disappointed. And Leorio's disappointed in himself too. A part of him that lives in the back of his brain curls around his throat and hisses that he should have aborted and went on with his life. He should have come back from the clinic and finished up his bachelor's degree. Gotten accepted into medical school. Never told anyone about the thirteen positive pregnancy tests in the trash can at his apartment. Like any sensible omega would do with no mate and no plans.

But when has Leorio ever been sensible?

He hadn't wanted his own kids really. They never had fit into the dream of being a doctor, or of fame and riches. He loved the tykes with a fiery passion but could never see himself with one dangling on his hip. There was a list of parental qualities someone had to have before a baby came along, and he didn't check enough boxes. Too goofy and immature to be someone's parent. Hell would more quickly freeze over before the universe aligned to make him a father.

His perspective only shifted ever so slightly after the hunter exam. After meeting Gon and Killua, who, despite only knowing each other for only a day, were already bonded at the hip. Before, he'd never been a particularly broody omega— never swooned over babies or got protective of kids. But something about them had clicked a switch in his head. The same one that had clicked with all the other omegas in his class had when they presented and began planning their future families, while he boasted about never settling down.

It wasn't an instantaneous change into desiring kids or wanting to be a father. But when he looked at Gon and Killua he couldn't help but think that he wouldn't be adverse to the idea of family living if it were these kids.

The universe, being the unpredictable little shit it was, decided it was going to give Leorio something to work with then.

(x)

If life is hell, then pregnancy is Satan's specially made fun corner.

For however indecisive pregnancy and emotional turmoil has made him, one thing Leorio can vouch for is that whatever poor kid that comes out of him is gonna be an only child. The universe couldn't bribe him into doing this shit again.

Leorio knew more than enough about biology to understand what was to come, but nothing could really prepare him. He knew the symptoms, the aches and pains, but only as they appeared in black and white on paper. An objective understanding of suffering could only do so much.

More often than not his body hurt and acid reflux tormented him at nights. Pregnancy glow was a fucking myth, just a trick of the light and his now overly sweaty body. His stomach refused to let him eat his favorite foods without nausea and compelled him with cravings to eat shit that had him praying over the toilet bowl for the rest of the day. And Leorio has a special bone to pick with whatever sick motherfucker named it "morning sickness" when the nausea stretched well into the day— and night.

His mother soothes him with homemade remedies passed down for generations and his father lends him his gentle warmth, but neither are quite able to crack through his rough and irritable exterior. Dealing with the heartburn and the aching back is easy compared to keeping a reign on his new, snappish temper. Sure, he had been annoying and insufferable at times, but never so mean.

It's tiring, madly ricochetting between snappish outbursts and weepy apologies. And he's thankful his parents tolerate him, or else he'd be fucked because who else would put up with him in such a state? He was selfish enough normally, tormenting his loved ones with check ins to the point of annoying them and pushing them away. Gon, Killua, and Kurapika's reluctance to answer a damn phone was proof enough of that.

Stressed out of his reasonable mind, Leorio does something he's never quite done before. He makes a nest.

It's a small, pitiful thing in the corner of his childhood bedroom, lacking structure and shape. It honestly could be mistaken for a pile of pillows and blankets carelessly strewn about, only big enough to fit Leorio in all of his lonesome.

He hasn't had much practice with this sort of stuff, being the only non-beta in his family for nearly three generations meant he never really had anyone to teach him how to make a nest without it falling apart. Too much of his childhood was spent expecting to present as a beta as so many did before him, and then the majority of his teenage years spent ignoring his newly found secondary sex.

Not much had actually changed for him after presenting. He was blessed by the fact that he was nearly beta-passing. His scent was smoky, and nearly burnt he'd been told. Nothing like the gentle sweetness an omega should have. Most who didn't bother to double check often assumed he was a beta. During a few drunk parties, he'd even been hit on by other omegas, mistaking him for an alpha. It had been amusing in highschool at times even, when he got his growth spurt second year and a few snotty alphas got a bad attitude about being shorter than an omega. He had liked his height, however gangly and un-omegalike it was.

He chose not to make nest during those years, thinking it was stupid and a waste of time to make a oversize pillowfort for comfort. He was paying for it dearly now.

In the middle of his nest was one of the only items of clothing he had from Kurapika. A white button down that had long since lost the minty bitterness of the beta's scent.

Pathetic, right? But it was all he really had.

(x)

Pregnancy is not the miracle he was led to believe. A twelve hour birth with several complications even less so. But the pink, squirming baby is, he decides.

His body hurts, he reeks of sweat and amniotic fluid, and he couldn't stop crying. The worst twelve hours of his life for the best gift in the world, because he was at a lost of words to describe the tiny bundle he'd been handed.

Stressful didn't quite describe the entire ordeal, birth and all. Twelve hours of indescribable pain had definitely brought out the nastier parts of him as he arched against the agony and howled at any doctor who dared come near him. There was an immediate relief as something warm and wet and shrieking was placed on his chest. Wriggling and slippery and perfect.

Leorio had always planned to try drugs at least once in his reckless youth, but nothing would be able to convince him now, after the high that was seeing his daughter for the first time. No drug the black market had could compare to the euphoria of a rosy pink baby against his skin. Maybe his body wanted to make it up to him for the utter hell he's been through the past few months, drowning him in love and affection just so he doesn't eat the little tyke who'd been the source of so much of his suffering. Just making sure he didn't kill his genetic successor. It works. The crying, the blubbering voicemails, the aching nights are well worth it.

Foul didn't describe the embarrassing things he spat at the doctors when they took her away momentarily to clean and weigh her, stamping her tiny feet. Hormones ran wild and he was just so tired as he muttered weak curses at their backs. He didn't mind that she was wet and wrinkly and ugly, he was tired and he wanted her.

Those two days in his empty room, Leorio was the most jealous he'd ever been of other omegas. The ones of tv soap operas that clung to their mates in the hospital, adoring their newborn together. The hospital room was cold and sterile as he held his daughter close, and wondered if Kurapika would be happy to see her.

(x)

Her name is Woble. Woble Kurta.

It doesn't occur to him until after seeing it written out on her birth certificate what exactly that meant. Kurapika was officially no longer the last living Kurta. By legal standards at least.

By other standards she was only half Kurta. Half Kurta by blood, and not particularly by anything else. Right now she was just a baby, without a clue about the language or culture or history she came from.

Leorio had made the decision of her last name shortly after deciding to keep the pregnancy, and had read up all he could for her sake. There was no shortage of articles, books, or documentaries about the Kurta— but there did seem to be a severe shortage of information.

Everyone seemed fascinated by the Kurta and their secrets, but all the sources seem to contain the same recycled information. Purposely isolating themselves and then dying in a sudden massacre hadn't bode well for the preservation of their culture as they seemed to be an all around mystery. Any clear information about them seemed hyper focused on the scarlet eyes rather than ceremonies or rituals. Information about the scarlet eyes was pretty useless too, for the most part. No one could be quite sure about the genetics behind them, but considering that only a small fraction of Kurta clan members had ended up possessing them, the chances were slim that Woble would be inheriting the eyes. 

Scarlet eyes or not, the second to last Kurta was still perfect to him.

(x)

He calls Gon and Killua when he's finally lucid enough to do something besides cry and almost crush his daughter from hugging her so close.

It goes to voicemail, and he's discouraged from being hopeful until he hears his phone ring in the middle of the night. He's bleary as he answers and hears the excited chatter of the two boys on the other end. They had gotten his voicemail, and they wanted to see her.

They don't ask any questions, over the phone at least. Too distracted by the idea of a baby to really care where it came from, or why the hell Leorio of all people was allowed to have one. He doubted that either of the boys had actually seen a baby up close in their lives. Gon being the only kid on whale island and Killua having been isolated for the better part of his life, the idea of an infant must be alien and intriguing to them. Gon seems mesmerized at the idea of being a big brother— or at least uncle. And Killua laughs and says "first time?"

They speed through the ongoings of their lives, telling Leorio of their adventures. They've travelled a lot, and even have a little map, all marked up and annotated that they want to show him. Alluka isn't with them at the moment, and Leorio is rightfully shocked that anyone managed to pry her from Killua's grubby hands. She's nen training with Zushi, Killua says mockingly. And Leorio laughs at that hint of childish jealousy. They finally presented too— both alphas, the two boast proudly.

"There's more too," they say."we'll tell you when we get there!"

Leorio doesn't worry about being left to wait for them, because when they say they'll be there, they come with haste. Their airship touches down two days later, just after Leorio has been released from the shabby and rundown hospital of his hometown. Laid up in his room, tired and cooing at the new life he's made.

It's the fullest the house has ever been, or at least that Leorio remembers. His parents cook a big meal and make Gon and Killua help around the crowded and small kitchen. Gon is a pro in the kitchen, eager and experienced. Killua chops the cutting board in half while he dices the vegetables.

After dinner is made, the boys creep to his room, and knock on the door. They're hesitant about coming in, cautious and bashful, and Leorio has to assure them time and time again that they aren't out of place in the slightest. With slight urging, the pair of tiny alphas nose their way into his shabbily built nest, gathering close in the cramped space. 

The two are uncharacteristically gentle, reverently brushing tiny hands and toes and cheeks. Soaking in every bit of her. Woble has milky brown hair, the color of coffee with three creams. Not taking after Kurapika's blond locks, not not quite possessing Leorio's dark hair either. He was happy that, over all, she took mostly after her better looking parent with her tiniest button nose and big doe eyes with too many long lashes to count.

Her skin is bread soft and her cheeks ruddy. Underneath all of Leorio's excessive scenting, she smells acutely of that new baby smell. Sweet and milky.

Besides the occasional squeaks and coos, she's quiet and observant as these new people touch and gush over her. Until she decides that being alive is very tiring business and she'd rather sleep in Killua's arms instead, to his alarm.

"I don't know how to hold a baby!" He hisses as Gon and Leorio laugh, holding her as if his arms were a burden.

It's a sweet moment. Having all his kids, official and unofficial, close to him just seems to push his hormones into overdrive and Leorio's heart aches with how much he missed this.

But like most good things in Leorio's life, the moment's short lived, as Gon asks about the baby's sire. Normally it's considered an exceptionally rude thing to ask an unmated omega who the sire of their baby is, and Leorio briefly muses over the idea of knocking some sense into him, but Gon has always been oblivious like that. And Leorio sees no reason to avoid the question.

"Kurapika is the sire," he says awkwardly, not sure whether to be embarrassed. "But things have been. . .difficult? I haven't been able to contact him since— a while. I haven't been able to contact him for a while."

"Did something come up with the eyes? Is that why he's been away so long?" Gon asks innocently, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I presume, but I, um, have no clue what he's doing, really."

"He's just gone!?" Killua whisper-yells, putting the pieces together much more quickly than Gon. "Has he even seen his kid yet?"

Leorio suddenly finds reason to regret telling them. "I don't think he knows that he's a father yet," he scratched his head, sheepishly recounting truths he'd come to terms with. "when I found out, he was already gone. And he has a phobia of picking up the phone."

Leorio could smell their anger before any sound even left their mouth. Their scents turning sharp and burnt, crackling in the air and rousing Woble to cry.

"It was fine when that fucker was just ignoring his friends," Killua growled. "But this?"

"Language," Leorio chastises. And Gon is silent with his head hung low. Processing.

He wiggles Woble out of Killua's arms and hushes her quietly.

"Language my ass— are you just okay with this?" He glared at Leorio. " You aren't working and moved back in with your folks to be a dad. What happened to being a doctor, old man? And Kurapika gets to skip off scot free doing god knows what so he can be angsty about his dead family? They died like, years ago!"

"It's fucked up, I know! I wish he was here, but I don't know what he's going through."

"Fuck that! I don't need to know what he's gone through to know it isn't an excuse to skip off and be a deadbeat dad."

Leorio looked over helplessly for someone to side with him. "Gon."

Gon shrugged limply. "Killua's right, it's not an excuse," he looked up, with one the most serious expressions Leorio has ever seen him sport. "But he doesn't even know. We have to find him and tell him before we can judge his actions as a dad. Whether or not he chooses to step up after finding out will determine his character," his eyebrows furrowed even deeper. "And if he doesn't, there's nothing we can do from there. You can't change people like that, you just gotta accept it."

Leorio didn't need to look at Gon's hard face to know he was speaking from experience. He knew this probably hit close to home. There was only so much a kid could pretend not to care about one of his parents abandoning him.

He's quiet when he feebly adds. "Well I think he will."

The conversation teeters off. No one quite wants to touch the minefield that might end in tears and blame. The promise is silent, unspoken. That they'll find Kurapika, and drag him back if they have to. The same way they promise to protect the tiny baby in his arms, and Leorio is inclined to believe them. They've never gone back on a promise.

The guilt still follows him. He should be able to handle his baby daddy issues on his own, shouldn't he? Gon and Killua are kids, he's the grownup here. They shouldnt bear the weight of trying to fix a fucked up family. He's a functioning adult for god's sake, he should be able to parent and figure things out and get people to pick the fuck up. Even if he couldn't help but feel so helpless.

He'd always rushed into adulthood hoping it would bring with it unseen answers. But it hadn't. Growing up was just a scam, childhood with more stress and responsibility and blame. And now, a baby.

Leorio didn't blame Woble in the slightest. Her existence brought with it a slew of new problems, but in a world filled with complications, his love for Woble was a simple, undoubtable fact. Life was pain, but in this cramped nest in his childhood bedroom, she was alive and it was wonderful. And that was something to be protected, Gon and Killua and Leorio could agree on.

Within the first week of life, Woble already had two of the most powerful alphas Leorio had the pleasure of knowing at her little pink feet.

(x)

Seven months in, Leorio liked to believe that he was getting the parenting thing down.

He had diaper changing, bottle making, and baby rocking on lock at least. Other things were still shaky, though.

"You love it so much you just gotta smear it everywhere, huh, tiny?"

Woble gurgled in response, clutching the mushy mango slice in her hand tighter. She made good use of it as a pencil, evident by the beautiful food art her highchair was covered in. It was only the morning and she's already well overdue for a bath— her face and yellow ducky pajamas already sticky with fruit juice. Leorio had decided to forgo a bib because what harm could a bottle and a bit of fruit do? Woble had made a point to prove his ignorance.

Leorio hummed, swiping up a bit of mango puree with a finger and eating it. "It's supposed to go in your mouth. Like this,"

Woble watched with wide eyes before attempting the same. Except she really only liked the tasting part and not the swallowing, so she let the mango mush drip out of her mouth after gnawing on it for a while. Babies were gross like that.

Leorio doesn't quite know when his standards lowered, but he was sure he could watch her roll around in a soiled diaper and still think she was the cutest thing to grace the earth. Scratch that, he had already done it before.

Scrutinizing her state of filth, he reasoned it would be fine to wipe her down and put her in some fresh clothes. Looking down, Leorio's nose wrinkled. He needed fresh clothes. He's been wearing the same sweatpants and university t-shirt for a while now.

"Alright," he says, hoisting her into his arms. "Time to get ready."

Woble coos and grips his arm with sticky fingers and Leorio smiles at the gresture. He dodges and weaves around the combs and brushes his mother has strewn about the house and nudges his father's art books out of his path on the way to the bathroom. The sink is crowded with old magazines and hair products and art supplies just as he remembers it. And now baby wipes and dirty pacifiers he had yet to clean too.

It's weird, but feels the most at home Leorio has felt in a while. His own apartment had been empty and tidy. Except for when weeknights dragged on too long and fast food trash got left on kitchen counters and dirty laundry piled up and spilled into the hall. His childhood home doesn't quite feel right either, he's too big to fit into his old bed comfortably now. Too tall to enter and leave rooms without his head banging on the doorframe. Too different for his childhood home which has stayed too much the same.

He snags the wipes and flicks off the light. But not before catching a glimpse of his unshaven face and grimacing. 

Going back to his room he sets Woble down on his bed, propped upright with a few pillows and good will. She slumped a bit to the left, but seemed well otherwise.

"Green or blue?" He asks, holding up two worn t-shirts. "C'mon I need your opinion."

Woble, helpful as ever, just clapped and kicked her legs, slowly sliding down her support pillows until she laid on her back. And then kicked her legs again for good measure.

"You're right, I look better in blue." He says, grabbing a pair of worn jeans from off the floor to make an outfit. There was a bit of shuffling involved to get them on, and they felt a bit tighter than usual. Maybe he hadn't lost all the baby weight. Maybe his mother had finally succeeded with putting some fat on his lanky ass by having him eat home cooked meals instead of a bite or two of take out each night. He didn't linger on the fact as he slid into his shirt.

Woble was particularly wriggly as Leorio tried to keep her still enough to wipe the gunk off her face and hands. She laughed and cooed, kicking her little legs out as he tried to wipe drool off her tummy. Giggling and nibbling on his fingers with soft gums— he could feel the prod of her first tooth that had yet to show.

Leorio was in no rush, kissing her chubby thighs and blowing raspberries in her belly as he went about dressing her in yellow dress his mother had gotten. She didn't like being dressed very much, firm in her vendetta against clothes that all kids under the age of five seemed to share, but she was tolerant enough. He was lucky she was such a happy and forgiving baby.

She probably got it from Kurapika somehow. Have his mother tell it, he was an intolerable little shit as a kid, shedding clothes wherever he went. Most pictures spanning far enough back sported a tiny, shirtless Leorio, grinning with a mouthful of missing teeth. It had been his cute face and goofy nature that had saved him from so many scoldings when he was younger.

Leorio got the baby sling that lingered in the dusty corner, and fought to put it on before fighting to get a wiggly Woble into it. Running a hand through her hair, he sighed. An assortment of knots and tangles decorated the back of her head from a night of restless sleep. Why was her hair so curly in the first place? Kurapika's hair was pin straight from what he'd seen, and his own was unruly— but never curly. Genetics really had something against him, didn't they?

With no small amount of guilt, leorio put a matching knitted cap on her head. Choosing to deal with her infuriating hair later.

And just like that, they were ready to go.

(X)

Leorio slipped out of the house stealthily, not giving his mother a chance to see and chastise him about the state of disarray her son and granddaughter were leaving the house in. Presentable and functional were two very different things in Leorio's head, and if it works, it works. Even if the two of them look a little haggard.

It's hot outside as August reached it's fever pitch. The unbearable heat that came with the height of summer made everything damp and sticky, and the humidity transformed the air into an nearly unbreathable jelly. Leorio had gotten used to Yorknew's weather and bearable summers, so being back home was a bit blindsiding. And he could suddenly remember why he spent the majority of his childhood running the streets in shorts and little else, only covering up more when his mom coaxed him back and persuaded (read: forced) him into putting on a tank top at the very least.

Woble seemed fine, thankfully. Her thin dress keeping her cool and her impromptu hat accessory kept the sun from beating down on her head. It probably helped that her dad's tall ass served as a makeshift umbrella, showering her in shade as they strolled down the street.

Walking through his childhood neighborhood is an odd experience. For the most part, it's unchanged— except for the small, obvious things. The same faces linger on porches and in windows, some a bit bigger now and others wrinkly. The woman who used to give out overly sweet butterscotch treats is still there in her rocking chair, only hunched and stooped over now. The old cat in her lap doesn't stir when she beckons him over and places a yellow foiled wrapped candy in his palm with a kind and toothless smile. 'So big now' she astonishes, not missing a chance to pinch Woble's cheek and coo.

The girl who used to sit her steps outside, loudly popping her gum and telling the little kids rumors and stories is all grown up now. He catches her eye as she snags a shirtless toddler wandering too close to the street, and they share a knowing look of parents. It's odd, she doesn't see all that big or important now that he's older. In his memories, Leorio remembers being five and believing that she was all knowing as she told him the differences between Alphas and Omegas, and all sorts of other scandalous "ten-year-old-only" information. But she seems as clueless as him as she tried to wrestle the wiggling brat back into the house. It's comforting.

A few steps down and Leorio sees the son of the owner of the corner store unloading boxes off of a truck. It's his store now. He's a far call from the little boy that he and Pietro would pull aside from stocking shelves to play with on summer days. Always needing just one more kid to make a complete soccer team. A scraggly kid pops his head of unkempt hair out of the truck and he recognizes him as the boy's brother. He'd been just a little baby in most of his memories, and then an annoying toddler forever trailing after them and demanding to play with the older kids no matter how small he was. Leorio had been the only one who'd ever bothered to try and include him, even when the bigger boys teased him. He looks to be around Gon and Killua's age now, and when the two of them spot Leorio, they wave.

The old pothole in the middle of the road that doubled as a miniature pond in the rainy spring was still there. The twisted crabapple tree and broken fence post too. 

It's a peaceful and untouched museum of memories. 

This place doesn't know about hunter exams and near death experiences. About reckless kids and little boys all wrapped up on hospital beds. Or scarlet eyes and unanswered voicemails.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost get lost in time, almost forget everything that was wrong and how fucking scary the world was. Pretend for a moment.

Woble's babbling is what snaps Leorio out of his inward spiral, and with that, they're at their destination.

His hands brush over the mossy gravestone with a fondness strong enough to make them shake. The cracks in the stone crawled into his chest and reopened old wounds in his heart, nostalgia leaking out around the edges as he whispered to Woble: "This was your uncle Pietro."

He doesn't think she quite understands what he's talking about or even would care to, but that's alright. Because Leorio is mostly talking to himself as he tells Pietro's tale and keeps alive the memory of a bright eyed and bushy tailed kid who was determined to take the world by storm. Speaking about him out loud for the first time in what had to be centuries.

He sits down on the grass, and takes Woble out of his sling to sit her in his lap. It's been so long since he's had time to visit. It feels like Leorio has lived a lifetime and a half since he came home.

Looking back on their plans, it sucks, knowing that as a kid he'd expected to travel the world with Pietro, and become insanely rich and famous. They'd blow entire afternoons drawing the outrageous things they'd buy with all their money in the dirt with sticks. He remembered what he thought the future would be like. All for Leorio, in the middle of his prime, to be sitting on his grave with an entirely unplanned baby.

Maybe it'd be easier if he was here. Maybe he would have talked Leorio's goofy ass out of falling for an emotionally unavailable blond and then acting surprised when all his calls went to voicemail. He'd probably beat common sense into him before Leorio even got the chance to drag himself through the hunter exams and nearly die multiple times in the process. He'd always been a contradiction. Reckless, but a voice of reason all at the same time too. The brains to Leorio's heart.

At very least, he would have been a good uncle. He would have adored Woble and her little nose and pudgy belly. He'd have been happy to babysit and support his best friend so that he wasn't left floundering and alone with no choice but to go back home. But he'll never know for sure how good of an uncle Pietro would have been, because he was dead before he even got the chance to turn fifteen. And who he would have been and who he would have become was nothing but a bunch of "what ifs" now.

That's why it'd scared him shitless, seeing Gon in that hospital bed. Because suddenly he was twelve again, watching his best friend rot away, day by bay in real time. And he'd been terrified at the notion of Gon's bright and shining future being reduced to a few hollow what ifs in a eulogy. 

But he'd gotten better, and immediately chose to go back to his reckless nature, not particularly caring if every brush with death could be his last. Because he was just a kid, determined to take the world by storm even if it hurt him. And tomorrow was either a given or a "not my problem" type of situation.

But for Leorio the possibility was all too real that he'd wake up one day in a black suit, speaking at the funeral of a little boy who loved frogs and just wanted to find his dad. Pietro hadn't been much older when he died. Leorio remembered thinking at his funeral, that just yesterday it seemed like they'd been sitting together, eating a of tub of half melted ice cream. Sunburnt and covered in bug bites and never happier, never more hopeful for the future.

And then, just like that, they were dressed in black. One in a casket and the other desperately wishing to crawl in beside him. To this day Leorio cannot wear a black suit. Blue and brown and gray, but never black. He will never wear that one again unless he has to.

He makes sure he does his best so he'll never have to. He calls his friends religiously and always ensures he's there at a drop of a dime if they need him. But still, they go ahead of him, carelessly swinging around their lives like it was no big deal. Leorio's done all he'd could for them, but he looks down at the giggling, bouncing baby girl on his lap and knows that he'll do even more for her.

(x)

He moves into a tiny apartment in Yorknew a few months later. A fiercely independent part of him no longer able to bear being a burden on his parents.

It's not much, with a combined livingroom and kitchen, with only one bedroom, but that isn't much of a problem anyway. After his fear of rolling over and crushing her in the middle of the night subsided a few weeks after coming home from the hospital, Woble spends most nights in his bed anyway. She's far from the best bedmate, as soon as she drifted off it was like a demon possessed her little body, making her wiggle and squirm and flail in her sleep. It wasn't uncommon for her to decide to sleep on his pillow and use his face as a footrest in the middle of the night, relentlessly kickboxing her father's head. He considered it a good night if he hadn't been completely evicted from his own bed by morning via Woble and all of her Royal Tininess. 

A perk of moving back out of his parents house was that he was at least able to get a bigger bed that could actually fit the both of them. But Woble still chose to sleep nestled in the crook of his body each night.

Things are a bit trickier without his parents around, and the newly crawling baby on his hip. He has to get a job, and put Woble into daycare.

Work was easy enough to find. His new apartment is cociendentally close to the old bakery where he had gotten his coffee to fuel late night study sessions when he'd first lived in the city. The employees are familiar enough with him to smile and nod sympathetically when he explains why exactly he disappeared so suddenly and how he was in desperate need of a job. Leorio hates to be a burden— hates to beg— but if begging is what it takes to get enough money to support himself and his daughter, then he's prepared to get on his knees and grovel.

And in the end he gets the job at the tiny family owned bakery. Putting Woble into daycare is the hard part.

Maybe he's being irrational but the idea of giving his little princess away to some strangers for entire hours of the day, simply rubs Leorio the wrong way. For the most part, he hasn't been away from Woble since she was born. And the idea of starting now is terrifying— and perfectly normal the receptionist soothes. She's good at talking him down from the panic he feels as he watches a woman carry Woble— his sweet, precious baby— away into a bright colored room with sunflowers painted on the walls and other toddlers that are being attended to. His scent is sharp and prickly with anxiety as he heads to work and it's the emptiest he's felt since he saw those thirteen pregnancy tests lined up on the bathroom sink.

That very first day seems to drag on forever; the clock taunting him everytime he looks at it. Every chance he gets, Leorio takes to scurry away from working and call the daycare center. And everytime the response is more or less the same.

"Yes, mister Paladiknight, she's doing just fine. She hasn't had any issues whatsoever since arriving. She has cried, as all babies do. No I cannot put you on the phone with her, it's nap time at the moment."

It's a mad dash as soon as his shift is over to get to Woble, and he comes skidding into the building with hands still covered and flour and a shirt stained with spilled coffee. The instant relief he feels when his baby is finally deposited in his arms is rivaled only by the joy he felt the first time he held her. His heart pounds and flutters and does all sorts of odd acrobatics as Woble squeaks and squeals when he blows raspberries in her pudgy cheeks and gives her butterfly kisses.

They go home to a unfurnished apartment and Leorio spoon feeds her baby food while he eats his own cold takeout. And, for the most part, things work out.

(X)

It goes like this; life gets easier.

Things don't become easy by any means, but Leorio gets better at the whole "parenting" thing. They fall into a rhythm.

Woble is first to stir and ensures he never oversleeps in the morning, planting herself on his chest and babbling until he wakes. It's nice, waking up to a smile. He changes her out of her footie pajamas in preparation for daycare.

Leorio doesn't stumble around at work anymore, all lanky limbs and ungratefulness as he takes orders. He doesn't dare say he's the most beloved employee, but he gets better at mixing batter and preparing coffee. He still feels like an obstacle the rest of the workers have to work around, but they ensure him otherwise.

"Oh the customers adore you, sweetheart! Such a polite and attractive gentleman needn't worry about being burdensome." The store owner would fuss at him. And he'd be forced to duck back into the kitchen, his scent hazy with embarrassment. 

Everyone is too kind to him really, never complaining when he runs late and always allowing him to help himself to the extra loaves that don't get sold during the day.

He comes to pick Woble up smelling like freshly baked bread and coffee, and listens as they tell him what a joy she was today. She's quite popular with the daycare workers apparently. And why wouldn't she be? She was the sweetest baby to have graced the world, all sleepy eyes and smiles, delightful even when she gets into one of her fussy moods. Yes, as her father Leorio's perspective on the matter was likely skewed. No, he would not be taking criticism.

They go home, floating on all the praises of the old omegas who fawn over Woble whenever they see her chubby cheeks on public transportation.

In the apartment, Leorio is happy to let her crawl about as he studies. The plan is to finish school again next year, and the last thing he wants is to be rusty. The first time around he'd been comfortable scraping by, but now with a job and a baby, there was little chance he'd be able to sit on his laurels.

It was a quiet end to the day. One that sounded like the satisfying scratch of pen on paper as he made notes and the sound of wooden blocks being toppled over as Woble rummaged around on the floor. He'd still hadn't been able to coax a word out of her yet, but he had high hopes. Or maybe she was just the strong and quiet type. Either way, she was getting good at crawling, and there was a good chance that she'd be standing one of these days. The idea had Leorio half in tears. It was conflicting to decide if he wanted a rambious toddler waddling after him or the sweet little pink baby he'd started with. Leorio could see clearly now how parents got tricked into the trap of having another baby. He wasn't even a quarter through Woble's childhood and he was already desperate to go back. But time didn't work in reverse and it wouldn't be long before preschool and kindergarden, first friends, and Woble developing a whole tiny life of her own. It was eye watering to think about, and doing it again sounded far from a punishment.

But right now Woble was still his tiny little baby, sitting by his feet and playing with his shoelaces. All dressed up in the traditional Kurta tarbard he and his mother had worked so hard to make.

Kurta clothing wasn't something to just be bought, though, that would have been easier. Still, Leorio had wanted one for Woble as soon as she opened her eyes.

It was hard to recreate. The only traditional kurta clothing he'd ever seen was what Kurapika wore, and he knew little about their significance let alone how to make them. He hadn't paid much mind to Kurapika's clothing when they first met, simply thinking that it was strange and whimsical. Like something the inhabitants of Neverland would like to wear. As time went on and he grew out of his insensitive teenage thoughts, he appreciated them more. They flowed around Kurapika beautifully in a way that a black suit never could, and the colors felt vibrant and alive. As Kurapika wore them less and less, Leorio found his appreciation of them grow. One night, after Kurapika had limped to his house injured and tired, he'd let him sleep in his bed while he scrubbed the blood out of his clothes before it could permanently stain them. He only had so many, and definitely not enough to ruin.

Leorio'd been quiet in awe as he did so, gentle too. Staring at the purposefully woven fabric and counting the threads. Time and ill upkeep had left the edges frayed, but given it the personality of something that could only be worn and loved. The gold embroidery was still lovely with its age. Holding the textile in his hands had felt like he was holding a piece of Kurapika that night, and it had been the closest he'd felt to the blond in forever.

He put in the research to make Woble a tabard. Digging and double checking.

His father, seeing how important it was to him, had coughed up enough money to ensure the thread was high quality, soft and durable. His mother, having been the one who'd made all his clothes as a child, had helped him weave it. Steadying his shaky hands and walking him through the steps.

After seeing his failed practice attempts, she'd taken the entire responsibility of hand embroidering.

It had taken him a while to find out what the embroidered patterns on Kurta clothing meant, as some of Kurapika's clothes had been plain without them while others had looping lines of thread. After digging and connecting the dots, Leorio came to realize that the designs were astrological symbols. It wasn't that hard to realize; the Kurta had been known for their studies of the stars.

After the massacre, the ruins of the Kurta village had been picked clean by researchers of anything the troupe left behind. Most of the surviving texts squirreled away in museums were about astrology.

It made sense to Leorio that the differences between clothes were that those which were embroidered were just more formal than the ones left plain.

Discussing this information with his mother, resulted in the beautiful dress-like garment Woble wore. It was a beautiful red, embroidered gold around the edges, a crescent moon stitched on the front and a sprawling sun on the back. Far from perfect, but if it wasn't an accurate portrayal of Kurta clothing, then at least the sheer love and work that had gone into sufficed in its stead.

It looked pretty on Woble, but then again, a dirty diaper still made her just as cute to Leorio. She'd grow out of it by next year, with how big she was getting, but then he'd just make her another one and another; he'd do it each year if he had too. Maybe blue one day, like Kurapika's. And he'd drop her off for her first day of kindergarten where she'd twirl and show it off to her classmates. But that was a far dream. She wore it exclusively around the house, and maybe on a few choice trips outside on a good day. As much as he loved the idea of her being frolicking about with her clothes, it wouldn't be smart from a safety standpoint.

Even dead, the Kurta had enemies. The last thing he would want was the wrong person catching a glimpse of her and her pretty red tabard, and decided to figure out if she had scarlet eyes as well.

Digging and research had brought him to records of police reports on the incident. Children with empty eye sockets that were told to have been tied to chairs and brutalized in front of their parents before suffering decapitation in their last moments. People without scarlet eyes tortured just to make a message. Leorio's hands tightened on the textbook he was reading, breaking the spine. He would never risk his daughter like that.

(X)

"Alright little missy; bathtime is soon, don't get too sleepy on me."

All Leorio got in response was a tiny "neh!" From the couch were Woble laid, half passed out. Drool dribbling down her chin where she still had the remnants of sweet potato mush as she settled back into sleep.

Leorio let out a breathless laugh, submerging his hands in soapy dishwater, chasing after one last plate. Then a different idea to get her attention popped in his head. He hummed, loudly annoucing. "Is this mister bumblebee I found?"

With no pause, he had to choke down his laugher as Woble awoke in a panic, shuffling and carefully dropping herself off the couch with a "oof". Righting herself on the floor, she crawled to the kitchen with all the ferocity of a dying man. Making her arrival very vocal as she babbled her entire way there.

Sitting on the ground, she looked up at her father expectantly as he produced her favorite, bee themed pacifier from a pile of bubbles. She squealed wildly and shimmied forward to tug on his leg.

"Hold on— wait, I gotta rinse it off," he murmured, checking the temperature of the running water before he cleaned the suds off the pacifier. 

He went to bend down and hand it to her, only to find the ambitious little thing using the fabric of his pant leg as leverage to hoist herself up to her feet. There was a quiet moment of excited awe as he watched her stand on unsteady feet, a wild grin painted across his face and electricity buzzing beneath his skin as he fought to not shout and startle her. It was short lived as, seeing her father's excitement, Woble freed her hands to clap and toppled over.

"You did it! Almost had it!" Leorio gripped Woble up into the air with soapy, dripping hands, relentlessly kissing her cheeks. "Save it for the camera next time, will ya!?"

Woble giggled thrashing head from side to side to try and escape her father's barrage of affectionate attacks, her tiny fists patting his head. She smiled, happily showing off her grand total of four teeth. Blinking, her eyes brightened to a sharp red.

Leorio nearly dropped her. Nearly cursed. Nearly did a lot of things.

Woble, unaware of the crisis she was putting her father through, squealed as she was lowered to the floor, and Leorio slid down next to her. He needed to sit down. Maybe he just had been on his feet too long, maybe he was tired and just needed some more sleep. Maybe it was a trick of the light because genetics didn't work like that, and this wasn't fair.

He'd mulled over the idea plenty when he was expantant with Woble, that maybe she'd have scarlet eyes. But the odds had been unbelievably low. Impossible, he decided. Both parents would have to be Kurta born for there to be even a chance, wouldn't there? Yes, he didn't know the full reasoning, or genetic explanation behind it, but this certainly didn't make sense.

Woble climbed into his lap, attempting to blow a raspberry into his stubbly cheek to cheer him up, like he often did to her. Instead, she just left a patch of drool smeared on his face as she pulled away, eyes still glowing.

He breathed. There were thirty six pairs of scarlet eyes in existence, thirty seven if you also counted one the very, very alive pair currently rolling around in Kurapika's skull— wherever he was. Leorio looked at Woble, her long, curly eyelashes batting over big cherry eyes as she giggled and clapped her hands. It was a shade of red that he'd never seen before on kurapika. 

He quite frankly thought that anger and, sometimes, embarrassment were the only things that could change a Kurta's eyes. But happiness could too apparently. It wasn't the bright, glowing shade of scarlet he'd grown used to seeing on kurapika in his fits of outrage, but a vibrant poppy red. The kind of red that slicked the backs of ladybugs and ripe strawberries on summer days. The kind of red that people were willing to kill little kids like her for, the kind sold at black market auctions for millions as they floated in glass jars, the kind that put lives at risk. Dangerously beautiful in a way Leorio didn't know the first thing on how to deal with.

He pulled Woble closer, curling around her slightly as he tucked her fluffy head of hair beneath his chin. Making himself small to the world, and just wanting her near.

There were thirty seven pairs of scarlet eyes in the world, and now, it seemed, thirty eight.

**Author's Note:**

> What arc does this take place during? Pffff, I dunno.
> 
> If you liked this, please comment below, I love hearing from you guys!!!


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